


Special Treatment

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bullying, Defensive Orion, First Meetings, Fluff and Mush, Future Best Friends, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 03:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orion Pax believes that each friend represents a world in him, a world possibly not born until they arrive. He had never thought his best friend, his best world, would be born when he got a scratch on his arm...</p><p> <br/><span class="small"><em>My headcanon of Ratchet and Orion's first meeting.<em></em></em></span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Treatment

Orion Pax fretted as he trudged down the street. He knew Chromeflash had just been messing around, but he still blamed him for the crack in the screen of his study pad and the semi-deep scratch in his forearm.

“Now I have to figure out some kind of excuse for Sire...” Orion muttered anxiously. His words trailed off when he heard a high-pitched voice shouting somewhere nearby.

“...What did you say?!”

“You can’t really understand all that medical junk; you pretend to know it so your creators will get special treatment and you’ll get into the Academy!”

“I do too understand it, my creators don’t need ‘special treatment’, and I _will_ get into the Academy!”

Curiosity piqued, Orion cautiously approached the argument. He was in the Academy himself and he wanted to see this prospective applicant. When he peered around the corner, he saw the owners of the two voices.

The first mech he saw was a purple youth, larger and assumedly older than his opponent. Orion drew in a sharp breath as he recognized him as Blitzfire, Chromeflash’s brother. _I wondered why he wasn’t at home_ , Orion recalled fleetingly.

The second was a small but sturdy red and white sparkling. In one hand he held a data pad, similar to Orion’s, while the other hand was clenched in a small fist. Orion was taken aback by the surprisingly menacing snarl on the little one’s face.

“Dream on! You’re a dim-spark, a microchip!” Blitzfire was saying.

“Oh, really?” the white and red mech cried, standing on his tiptoes to get in the other’s face. “Well, you are a rusty miss-clock!”

Orion lurched in astonishment. How could such a young sparkling know an insult such as _that_?! Blitzfire seemed just as shocked, but he overcame it swifter than Orion did, shoving the younger bot to the ground and snatching up his data pad in the same motion.

That wasn’t acceptable, Orion decided immediately, darting forward and shouldering in between them. “Stop,” Orion ordered.

“Who are you?” the sparkling demanded from behind him.

The purple mech knew. “Orion? Get out of my way!”

“I won’t let you hurt him, Blitzfire,” Orion answered as calmly as he could manage.

“Did you hear what he called me?!”

“Yes, but I’ve just come from your family’s quarters and your brother wants to know where you are.” Orion held out a hand. “Give me the pad and go home.”

“You expect me to let that little scrap go?” Blitzfire sputtered furiously.

“While I’m standing between you, I do,” Orion confirmed.

Blitzfire glowered at him for a few more moments before giving in, slapping the data pad into his hand and stomping off down the street. Orion turned toward the sparkling, his grim expression softening slightly.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” the small stranger grunted as he got to his feet. “Thanks.” He took the data pad when it was offered, looking somewhat hesitant. “He said your name...Oren?”

“Orion. Orion Pax,” he corrected gently. “And you are...?”

“Ratchet,” the sparkling declared, holding out his free hand. Orion was about to shake it when Ratchet moved his hand abruptly and rested it over the scratch in his forearm. “You’re hurt!” he exclaimed, looking both puzzled and concerned. “What happened?”

“A friend was a tad too rough with me,” Orion replied, carefully leaving out the fact that it was Blitzfire’s brother.

“Oh.” Ratchet nodded once and laced his fingers into Orion’s. “Come with me and I’ll patch you up.”

Orion let himself be led away even as he protested, “Ratchet, it’s not that bad—”

“Have you _looked_ at it?” Ratchet’s tone was bordering on irritation. “It’s deep enough to need a buffing.”

Orion didn’t want to hurt his new acquaintance’s feelings, so he kept his tone as gentle as possible when he asked, “Isn’t my Carrier best suited for doing that?”

“Deep enough to need a _medical_ buffing,” Ratchet clarified.

“Then wouldn’t a medic be best suited?”

Ratchet scowled warningly at him. “I _am_ a medic.” He stopped Orion in front of a certain door and pushed him down. “Now stay here.”

Orion still wasn’t quite taking him seriously but he smiled and nodded anyway. Ratchet audibly stifled a sigh before disappearing into what Orion correctly assumed was his family’s living quarters.

 _I can see why Blitzfire thought his creators would need special treatment to get him into the Academy,_ Orion mused as he studied the sealed door. The quarters that sat nearest to the street were unmistakably the places of those who weren’t exactly well-off...

His train of thought was interrupted when Ratchet reemerged holding a buffer. Orion stared at it. That was one of the high-grade tools, not something a family living in these types of quarters usually had.

“Hold out your arm,” Ratchet instructed and Orion obeyed, wondering how to ask his question.

When he got up his courage, he ventured, “Ratchet, where did you get that?”

“In my quarters,” Ratchet replied distractedly as he punched in the activation code.

“But...” Orion was trying to find a kind way of saying that poor families didn’t usually have such high-grade tools as these. When he couldn’t find one, he asked instead, “Who are you borrowing it from?”

“I’m not borrowing it.”

Orion was flustered. “Then who built it?”

Ratchet laughed and shook his head as though he couldn’t believe Orion hadn’t figured it out. “ _I_ built it!”

Orion’s jaw dropped and Ratchet laughed again as he steadied his arm and began buffing it like an expert. Orion watched speechlessly, eventually coming to the realization that, even though his arm would be healed within moments, he doubted he would be saying goodbye to this genius any time soon.


End file.
